


You make everything better

by Nefariouscryptid



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Death, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Murder, Mutual Pining, Obsession, best friend - Freeform, drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25939381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefariouscryptid/pseuds/Nefariouscryptid
Summary: It was often that you could find either Peter or Jason shitfaced drunk, and see emotions pour out of their eyes and mouth. It was also often you could find it happening with them right next to each other, one body sloppily slung against the other, One either leaning in or leaning away. Tonight’s no different, location maybe. Jason tries to focus on the blaring music muffled from outside of the small, maroon back room. Instead he finds himself focused on the low, drunken whispers of his best friend leaning against him. He doesn’t know how much more he can take of this constant... lies. They’re lies. Just lies.
Relationships: Peter Durante/Anahii Durante (mentioned), Peter Durante/Jason Byrne
Kudos: 13





	You make everything better

**Author's Note:**

> Find out more information on my tumblr @ Nefariouscryptid in the “my ocs” tag. Trigger warnings for constant mentions of abuse and darker subjects relating to sex rings, murder, and corruption of governments. It’s worth a read, though.

“Jason... jay...son...”

He was breathing heavily now. He felt Peters hot breath against his neck and his palm grip his thigh. The leather couch dipped as he leaned further away from him, weight resting on his hand. Music was blaring, people too distracted as they got fucked by their own partners. A bunch of rich bastards partying like they were teenagers. He was at the 1% frat party, as he liked to call it. 

He could hear Peter mumbling under his breath, and felt his hand roam freely against his chest. In any other circumstance he would shove him off, change the subject, leave the situation. But they were behind closed curtains, two bouncers outside as he and Peter snorted whatever they could and drank whatever awful combination they could come up with. He couldn’t tell if he had poor judgment from whatever his body has ingested, or if he simply started to stop caring. Caring about what others were gonna say, what they were gonna do, if he was gonna hear his fathers voice in his head every time he looked at a man with any sense of desire. 

He tried to listen into what Peter was saying. It sounded like drunken rambling, him having witnessing some of his more disorganized speech before in the years they’ve known each other, but to his surprise the words strung together made sense. 

“You’re... too peeeeerfct.. t’me... dnt... dnt evr...” a string of harsh breaths cut him off. “....leave.. me...” Jason was now lying down, Peter’s body slung on top of him, his left leg wrapped around Jason's right, and arms wrapped around his chest. Peters hand toyed with Jason’s button up shirt, hastily unbuttoning the top. “Why.. don’t you want me... no ones ever treated you good..” his speech was becoming more clear, but his tone was becoming more upset. He doesn’t know why he hasn’t shoved Peter off by now, or why his hand was trailing towards Peter’s lower back, the other toying with the sand blond hair. “I’d treat you good... so good...” Jason heard a loud sniff, and a pitiful whine. Peter seemed like he was starting to cry. He was never an emotional drunk, unless around him. When they were alone, drinking in their lonely mansions, with a girlfriend or a wife that didn’t love them, they’d drink till they puked, and Jason would have the title of seeing Peter in his absolute vulnerable state. Seeing everything spill out of him, seeing him unwind, the persona unfold. The only man to really see Peter Durante. Today seemed to be one of those days. Or nights... days.. fuck what time was it? 

“Peter... what are you talking about...?” A Byrne trick: act oblivious to avoid the obvious elephant in the room. He knew Peter was erratic, saying things he didn’t really mean. Loving, vulnerable, and sexual things. He’s seen it happen. Back with his old secretary, Meredith, for example. He knows Peter is a liar. And while he would never admit it out loud he hated being lied to like this. The lies itself, coming from anyone else would maybe annoy him at most. But from Peter, it nearly enraged him. Because there was always the sliver of hope that he was the exception. That Peter wasn’t lying to him. That he does mean everything he says when he’s drunk or high. But then he sees him flirt with another money hungry whore and he’s soul gets crushed yet again. 

A cackle echoed in the room. Peter slid upward to Jason’s face, both legs now wrapped around Jason’s hips, arms snaking underneath his. He was practically spooning him now, both laying on their sides with Jason’s body twisted to face him, Peters body pressed against the leather couch. “Yoooouuu know what I’m talking about... don’t act like you don’t... you... don’t...” the grin was wiped off Peters face. “You don’t... know...” 

Peter exhaled, trailing his hand up to Jasons chin. “...You don’t... know.. I killed her. Mariah... she.. was no good for you.... hated her... hated the way she looked at you... such.. love.. it wasn’t love...” 

Jason’s eyes widened. His last girlfriend, Mariah, went missing 3 months ago. He assumed that she was yet another gold digger, putting on the doting persona, and left with his shit. But he never found anything missing. And “they” never found her. Once again he found himself not to care, maybe wasn’t processing... But he never liked her... yet he was shocked that Peter killed her. Just because he didn’t like her. Mariah was a nice woman, always treated him and Peter nicely. Sure you can’t be a good person when married to someone who does such terrible things and work in such terrible industries... but she was nice. And nice was hard to find these days. 

His hazed brain tried to pin point why Peter would kill Mariah. Did she say something to him? Was he going off the rails? Those are the only two options he could think of, logical ones at that. His thoughts were cut off. 

“...you torture me... I hate my wife... s’makes me wanna die... makes ME wanna really die... and I hate her way more then I hate myself... ths’how you know she makes me miserable...” he laughed. “...but you’re aaaalllwwwaaaayyss there to make it better... just seeing you... makes eeeeveerryytttthinggg go away... and yet... you torture me...” Jason’s face was flushed, both in odd joy and despair. He knew this was just another one of Peter’s empty lies, empty words. He accuses him of being the torturer, but he’s the tortured. Yet he found himself leaning more into Peters hand, which was now cupping the underside of his head and bringing it close to the side of his cheek. He closed his eyes. 

“All those girlfriends... the sex... it’s torture... evry... fuckin minute of it. Seeing what I can’t... have.” He squeezed his legs tighter around Jason’s waist, body snaked around like a cobra. It’s kinda what he looked like, a hungry cobra trying to eat prey he can’t stomach. “I wanna.. I wanna kill them all. Every woman that’s touched you.” His voice became more clear and less divided. “Every woman that’s laid their undeserving and ungrateful hands on you... I wanna kill. Mutilate their fucking bodies... rid of their finger prints. Their bloodline. And replace their prints with mine. Jason... Jason... please...”

Jason was breathing heavily now. His eyes were darting back and forth. He had to do something, get him away from the situation that was inevitably gonna break him when he sees it was all lies. He broke free from Peters grasp and leapt off the couch. Whipping his head around to meet Peters, eyes brimming with tears, he started to scream. “STOP FUCKING LYING TO ME! STOP FUCKING DOING THIS SHIT!” He gestured to Peter, who’s eyes were now blown open in shock, body staggering upward. “I CANT FUCKING TAKE IT!!! YOUR FUCKING LIES!!!” Jason’s head was spinning, his face hot as he staggered back, body slamming into the wall, knocking over empty bottles of gin on the Coffee table. Maroon walls were blurring together, he was barely able to hear his own anguished cries. Sliding down to the floor, he looked up and glared at Peter, who was now looking at him with a new kind of despair he’s never seen before. Not in his eyes.

There was a beat. Peter stood up. Jason was expecting a response, a scream, another one of his drunken meltdowns. Instead he got a monotone, hollow reply. 

“You... fucking asshole.” Swiping his coat in one swift motion, Peter sped out of the room, door curtains blowing away before he could even touch them. And Jason lied there, broken glass around him, broken yet uncaring. He no longer cared what the bouncers thought, what others thought. He didn’t care anymore about his... attraction towards his friend, men in general. But with that replaced a new feeling. The crippling fear of being rejected by the only man he’s ever loved.

And he thinks he just did.


End file.
